


Stymie

by gryffindormischief



Series: Fresh Pickled Toad [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 23:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7551724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindormischief/pseuds/gryffindormischief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron has gone too far - and Ginny's not letting it go anymore.  Should be fine, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stymie

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I got the idea for the end of this at work hehe. This is two prompts smushed together, but I think they worked. Hope you enjoy! I plan on posting the second chapter of Flux this weekend!

"You _know_ Ron's my best mate. But if he doesn't bugger off and mind his own business I'm telling your mum who set fire to the curtains," Harry grumbled as he strode away from the Burrow toward his and Ginny's 'secret' spot. Secret meaning it took the longest for someone to find them if they were careful enough. They had to mix it up so no one else would figure out it was their spot, thus losing the all-important secret element.

Ginny practically growled, working her windblown hair into a loose braid, "Oh he's going to get much worse than mum if he keeps this up."

Harry had accepted a long time ago, at least a long time relatively speaking, that Ron was going to occasionally feel he had the right to butt in when it came to his relationship with Ginny. It was only reasonable to expect an older brother would feel protective, so Harry had mentally decided to cut him some slack – never out loud, because as much as he loved Ron, he feared Ginny and if she got a whiff of him going easy on Ron…it wouldn't be pretty. But as the months passed, the situation had escalated to untenable levels. Sometimes, it felt as if Ron was the Voldemort to his Quirrel – everywhere he and Ginny went, Ron could appear at any moment.

In the week alone, Ron had interrupted their time alone twenty-one separate times. And this isn't to say he and Ginny were constantly rolling around snogging. Apparently, at some point, Ron had decided that if the couple got any closer than half a meter, it was cause to call for a wedding at wand point.

Throwing herself down on the soft earth, Ginny let out a huff, chewing on the end of her braid angrily. Harry flopped down next to her, pulling the soggy red locks from between her clenched teeth and rubbing it on her nose. Ginny scrunched her face up in annoyance, freckles wrinkling together, "We've got to make him stop."

Harry turned on his side and placed a chaste kiss on her bare shoulder, "Short of silencing him and placing him in a body bind, I'm not really sure what to do."

Ginny pulled up a blade of grass and peeled it apart, "Is that _not_ an option?"

Chuckling, Harry extended his arm to the side in invitation. The red head scooted closer and nestled herself under his chin. His chest rumbled underneath her, "I suppose it is, but it would only benefit us in the short term…plus your mum wouldn't like it."

"I wouldn't jump to that conclusion dear," Ginny laughed, running her fingers over Harry's chest, tickling him through his t-shirt.

Harry grabbed her hand with his lanky one, "Oi! No fair."

Ginny flexed her fingers, pulling her hand away, " _Anyway_."

"Ah yes. Tell me your plan oh great one," Harry drawled, tucking his free arm beneath his head, lifting it from the grassy ground. He could just glimpse the cloudy azure sky through the bushy treetops, birds flying overhead, calling out to each other.

"Hmm. I like the sound of that," Ginny snickered, pushing up on her elbow, her face hovering over his, effectively blocking his view, _not that I'm complaining about the change in scenery._

He looked up into her chocolate eyes, sparkling with equal parts joy and mischief, "Yeah, just trying out new pet names."

She paused, trying to blow a stray wisp of hair out of her eyes. Harry waited, watching her face screw up in the effort, before reaching up and brushing it behind her ear. Ginny grinned, "Ta, love." Her brow furrowed for a moment in thought, "Oh! The _plan_."

Craning his neck forward, Harry placed a quick kiss on Ginny's lips, "Ah yes. Do go on."

Tilting forward, Ginny laid on Harry's chest, one of her legs between his, "We go in my room alone-"

Harry ran his hands up and down her back slowly, chuckling, "I like it."

Ginny ran her close cut fingernails over his middle and down his sides, sighing, "Alas, nothing will actually happen."

Pouting, Harry gathered her hands together and settled them on his chest, raising his dark brows to invite her to elaborate.

A sly smile split Ginny's sun-kissed face, "We get Ron to _think_ something is happening. While we're in my room. Alone."

A faint blush spread across his cheeks, at the implication, but he tamped it down, prodding Ginny to continue, "Do I want to know how?"

Ginny quirked a brow, "Don't be a _baby_. You see where this is going…heavy breathing, bed creaking, you know, the works. What do you think?"

Harry flipped their positions, briefly knocking the breath out of Ginny, here eyes flashing as he whispered, "Oh, I think this is without a doubt the _stupidest_ plan you've ever had."

She answered, voice more breathy than she'd like to admit, but snarked back nonetheless, "If by _stupid_ you mean the _best_ then yes, stupid. You in?"

"Of _course_ I'm in," Harry murmured, pressing his lips to Ginny's, postponing their plotting until much later.

The following day, most of the family was out, excluding Harry and Ginny. The night before, Harry had casually questioned Ron about his plans for the day and confirmed that he'd be the first Weasley to arrive home, the men all working at the Ministry, Gringotts, Wheezes, or in far away Romania, and Mrs. Weasley would be fawning over a newly pregnant Fleur. The plan was to simulate the sounds of… _things_ enough that Ron would hear when he got home from the Grangers he'd jump to conclusions, burst in in a fit of rage – failing to consider the fact that if his assumption was correct he'd get an eyeful – and then subsequently be taught a lesson by the business end of Ginny's wand.

However, the plan, however simple in concept, was less so in the execution. Mainly because their victim was late. Harry and Ginny sat on the floor, each with their backs pressed against opposite walls, tossing a battered quaffle back and forth. Ginny narrowed her eyes in thought, "I spy with my little eye something…I wore on my first trip to Diagon Alley."

Rolling his eyes affectionately, Harry caught the quaffle with both hands, "Gin, that's not how the game works. You have to say what _color._ "

Ginny grasped the quaffle with one hand as Harry tossed it, "I _know_ that's not how it works. But your way is dead boring." She lobbed the projectile back with force sufficient to hammer her point home. Harry's stomach bore the brunt of the impact as his arms wrapped around the quaffle, "Bloody- wait I hear something. It was the floo."

Harry tossed the quaffle towards the wastebasket, gloating silently when he made the shot, while Ginny glared menacingly and ordered him to his position with a demanding finger. Soon, Ginny was bouncing up and down on the bed on her knees, the springs creaking, while Harry tossed the quaffle – first hitting the wall, then bouncing from the floor back into his hands, where the circuit would start again.

Both kept alert, listening intently for the creak of Ron coming up the stairs. Once they were sure Ron was outside the bedroom door, they planned on upping the ante – vocalizations. Although Harry was sure the combined embarrassment at trying to think of _something_ to say, and hearing Ginny…hopefully Ron's temper would be quick.

Minutes passed, and Ron never came. Finally, Ginny gestured to stop the noise for a second, quiet falling over the room, with only their breathing, slightly labored with their activities, breaking the silence.

Slowly, Ginny slipped off the bed and padded towards the door, jumping slightly when a voice called out for Harry from below. She turned to Harry, his eyes widening, mirroring her own expression as she whispered, "It's my _dad._ "

Harry ducked his head with a defeated sigh, "Worst idea. _Ever_."

Years later, when Harry's sons complained about getting the 'talk', he took a long swig of firewhiskey, emerald eyes distant behind wire-rimmed glasses, and mumbled, "Be grateful you're not having this conversation with your _girlfriend's_ dad."


End file.
